


Crown of Daisies and Thorns

by Pascel_Archer



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Han Jisung | Han, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Top Lee Minho | Lee Know, sugar daddy undertones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pascel_Archer/pseuds/Pascel_Archer
Summary: He was so angry. Angry at Minho for being so closed off even though he claimed that he loved him, angry that he always had something else going on, angry at himself for being so invested in their relationship when Minho obviously wasn’t.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	1. Prologue

The crashing and cresting of waves added a gentle soundtrack to the evening that was anything but. The moon was full in the sky, illuminating the sand that was smooth once more besides a single line of footprints mere centimetres from the water, a single line that was created by a man unsure as to why he was there. Not just on the beach instead of in bed, but at the beach in general. It had seemed like a good idea at the beginning of the week, but per usual things changed. If anyone was well versed in the upheaval of plans it was Lee Minho. That was why he was carrying his boots in his left hand, the other deep in his pocket. 

Han Jisung sat at the glass coffee table in the rented beach house, practically swallowed by a fluffy white sweater, his small fingers nimbly building a house made of red bicycle cards. His tears had long since dried, but the aching feeling had yet to subside. There were many things the newly nineteen-year-old could be doing, like messaging Minho to find out where he had gone or texting his friends to assure them of his safety. Instead, he had spotted the deck on the bar and decided to try and do what he was never able to. Maybe it was the deafening silence or the eery calm feeling he was bathed in, but he was already four layers up on the castle. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel proud. Somewhere in the distance he heard the calling of frogs and he lifted his head, staring out the open balcony. A cool breeze blew through, raising goose bumps on his bare thighs. He didn’t remember if he had opened it or if Minho had. He was suddenly very aware of being alone in the house, his eyes darting around the living room in order to spy a hidden figure in the shadows that wasn’t there, the lamp not doing much to light more than where he was sitting and a few feet in front of him. the hallway that led to the door was bathed in the same grey dark. He jumped when he heard the knob turn. He watched for any signal that whoever it was was unknown. The ice in his veins thawed once he saw the familiar shape of Minho, and he turned back to the castle. He didn’t look at Minho as he walked over to the armchair and sat, his legs spread slightly. Enough for Jisung to kneel between if he wanted. Jisung took note of that as he added another set of cards at the top. As though it sensed his rekindled tension, it fell flat, making a sound no different from the gentle slide of a hand across a tabletop. Only then did he look up at Minho who was staring ahead his eyes hazy. He was thinking. Rather deeply by the looks of it. Jisung got to his knees, slowly crawling over, opting for sitting beside him, resting his head gently against his thigh. Minho’s fingers immediately fell to his head, pulling at the stands softly. Jisung sighed, they were being stupid. He didn’t even know what brought it on, the argument. Minho had just been in one of those moods, the ones where he wouldn’t tell him anything and just expected him to know what to say. Jisung was rather intelligent but he was only nineteen, the most serious relationship he had ever been in was when he was in ninth grade and he had dated a girl in his theatre club for the entirety of their production of Romeo and Juliet. They held hands once, but they never talked about feelings or anything like real relationships do. Or should. Jisung closed his eyes, clasping his fingers around Minho’s calf. Minho had started to tap his fingers on the arm of the chair, the quiet sound of his fingertips hitting the leather repeatedly drew the idea of sleep closer and closer. 

It was awhile before anyone spoke, Minho to busy losing himself in his head and Jisung losing himself in ministrations on his scalp to think of anything to say. It was Minho who broke the silence but with words Jisung didn’t want to hear. 

“get your things together, we’re leaving” he announced. Jisung sat up, pouting.

“What? Why?” he demanded, confusion and irritation in his eyes. Minho didn’t look at him, didn’t speak again either. Jisung sniffed, standing up. Minho’s eyes fell on his bare legs, the only time he had even spared him a glance since he walked in. Jisung knocked his knee against the others, huffing. “My eyes are up here dick head” he scoffed, stomping to their room. He didn’t know why tears had suddenly gathered in his eyes, didn’t know why he let them fall as he shoved his clothes into his suitcase, not the neat way they were when he packed to come. He was so angry. Angry at Minho for being so closed off even though he claimed that he loved him, angry that he always had something else going on, angry at himself for being so invested in their relationship when Minho obviously wasn’t. just as he felt himself drowning in his thoughts, he felt familiar arms wrap around his waist, a soothing ‘shh’ leaving his lips. Jisung took a breath, standing still. “Why?” he asked again, quieter this time. 

“Something came up” was his explanation. Jisung laughed bitterly. 

“Something always comes up, funny how you never tell me what that something is” he said, his words trying to sound angry but just sounded broken. Minho sighed, tossing the few remaining shirts of Jisung’s into the suitcase, all but a pair of shorts which he held out for him to put on. despite disagreeing with what was happening he still slipped them on as well as his slides. Minho zipped the suitcase and placed it on the floor, shouldering his own bag which he had never unpacked. He grabbed ring he had given Jisung for his eighteenth birthday from the ground where he had thrown it earlier. He didn’t hand it back to Jisung, just put it in his pocket, and walked out the room. Jisung’s hands were suddenly very cold and he felt as his heart began to break.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took longer than expected and I apologize for the wait. Hopefully this chapter draws you in farther than the previous one!

Jisung could still remember the day he had first laid eyes on Minho. Remembered the fluttery feeling of intrigue bubbling up inside of him, he could also remember how terribly bored he had been beforehand. 

Every year, Jisung’s high school held an annual job fair for the lower secondary school students. Business owners and workers from different areas of expertise would come from around Seoul and set up booths in order to encourage the kids to start thinking about their futures. There would be games too, and food. Jisung remembered coming every year from the sixth grade until ninth, enjoying the momentary independence he had where no adults could tell him were to go and when. He recalled the fond memories he had of asking stupid questions to the men in suits with Felix and smiling wide at the bakers and chefs, so they’d let him get more free samples with Hyunjin. However, the fair was a lot less fun when you were a junior in charge of the arts and crafts table in the arts section of the gymnasium in order to pass your economics class. Not that he was failing, it was just their final exam grade for the year and yes, it was mandatory. It didn’t seem to matter that there were actual volunteers for it. He wasn’t even anywhere close to his friends, which were on the other side in the public service section, where they got to at least look at the firemen all afternoon. They probably wouldn’t even appreciate it since they were all in relationships, so it was just a waste. 

Instead of complaining like he wanted to, though, he sat in his chair, helping the sixth graders make collages. It could be worse though; he could be in the ‘suits’ section. So, he dealt with it, even when glue was spilled for the nth time leaving a sticky mess all over the table. He wiped it up silently, retrieving another bottle from the box at his feet when he saw him. Well, heard him. As he grabbed a bottle, a deep voice spoke, a simple ‘Excuse me’ enough to intrigue Jisung so much he rushed to sit up, knocking his head against the metal leg. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking slightly concerned. Jisung had only blushed, shoving his hair from his eyes. He would’ve answered, but all words died on his tongue at the picture before him. Minho stood there, his soft auburn hair framing his face neatly, his dark brown eyes seemingly never-ending pools, his lips were a little to pink to be natural but light enough to just be a tinted lip balm. He was wearing a navy-blue turtleneck and a checked sports coat of different shades of autumn colours with splashes of navy blue throughout it. He was also wearing earrings, one dangling down on one lobe, the other sporting two small hoops. Of course Jisung did not know his name yet but he could recall desperately wanting to. Eventually he found his words, spluttering out a yes in an embarrassingly squeaky voice. The then stranger nodded, looking a little uneasy at him, whether he was concerned by his smack against the table or the fact he spent a solid few minutes staring at him with wide already adoring eyes. Jisung couldn’t bring himself to say anything else until he did, nodding as he finally cleared his throat. 

“I was just looking for Mr. Yang, do you happen to know where he his?” he asked, still looking at Jisung as though he was some new species he had only just encountered. Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes darting around. The only ‘Mr. Yang’ he knew was his friend’s Jeongin’s dad. His dad couldn’t be here though, he was on a business trip in London. 

“Who, exactly?” he asked. 

“He’s a young boy, around your age, fluffy hair watery eyes” he described. 

“’I’m seventeen, thank you” he said, feeling rather defensive, more than likely because if he didn’t known his age and presumed he was younger his chances at dating him were slimmer than they already were. “Wait, do you mean Jeongin Yang?” he asked as an afterthought. He nodded, looking impatient. Jisung now knew he wasn’t as impatient as he looked. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t even think he was working on this side of the gym, he’s usually with Hyunjin” he informed, knowing that was even less helpful than it sounded. “I can call him though if you want?” he suggested pulling his phone from his pocket. Minho had nodded, crossing his arms. A golden ring flashed under the florescent lights and Jisung pretended he didn’t feel the disappointment in his stomach. He quickly found Jeongin’s contact, sliding it to the left. He turned to the side as he listened to it ring, only half expecting him to answer since the school never had reliable signal, smiling triumphantly when he did. “Oi, Innie, some man his looking for you” he informed, looking to him in hopes of getting his name. before he did, Jeongin spoke up. 

“You mean Minho-Hyung?” he asked, leading Jisung to shrug, agreeing because what other man would be looking for him? Jisung ignored the distant echoes to Jeongin’s words and a quiet snicker from somewhere near him. If he had shirked is responsibilities to sneak off to the bathroom with Hyunjin, that was none of his business. 

“We’re at my table” he informed, disconnecting the call quickly. “He’ll be here in a minute” he reassured an ever-impatient Minho. His sigh was audible even over the bustle of kids and Jisung only felt that familiar firework of infatuation that was often associated with a schoolboy crush towards him. He couldn’t even protest when Minho walked away, only managing a distant smile. Who knew infatuation could be so devastating.  
• 

Jisung wasn’t sure why he was thinking about this as the road stretched out in front of them, the radio playing so low it was more irritating than anything else. Wasn’t sure why the memory only made him angrier than anything else when it normally made him smile, his brain sending so much serotonin through his body the only way to get it out was to shake and dance around until he was left breathless and lightheaded. Minho still hadn't spoken, leaving Jisung walking the fine line between demanding to know what was wrong and waiting. He looked out the window as he internally debated on what to do, becoming a little too aware of the radio and the clicking of the turn signal, he felt his blood bubbling as thought to many thoughts. He reached forward, jabbing the power button of the radio with his middle finger, scoffing when he felt his fingernail break. He finally made up his mind, swallowing calmly before speaking.

“What’s wrong, Minho” he asked, dropping the honorifics like he usually did when they were alone. “Please, Minnie, just tell me so I can help” he pleaded, his voice becoming more and more desperate and less and less like the confident one he wanted to use. Upon not getting an answer he fell silence once again. He still had a few tricks up his sleeves, tricks he only used when he was really desperate which rarely happened out of bed. “Daddy” he said innocently, dragging the word out. Minho took a breath, glancing at him. 

“Don’t call me that” he ordered. Jisung scoffed, he knew Minho liked it, that’s why he told him not to, very well aware Jisung was able to get anything out of him by just murmuring it softly in his ear. It was like a skeleton key that was able to unlock everything that Minho tried to keep from him. it was unfair to use in an argument, Jisung would be the first to tell you that, but Minho wasn’t exactly being fair either. 

“Please, just tell me what I did to make you so mad” he said, unable to keep the teary edge from his voice. 

“Will you stop that?” Minho exclaimed, surprising Jisung enough to make him jump in his seat. Minho was beginning to let his anger out, purposely, or not. “You always do this, you always assume I’m mad at you, beating yourself up until I break like this” he scolded, his voice a little to loud to be civil. 

“I wouldn’t do that if you would just talk to me!” Jisung shouted back, his voice scratchy and throat raw. He swallowed against it. 

“You act like you don’t do the same thing to me, get moody and block everyone out” Minho scoffed. Jisung clenched his fists, staring hard at Minho’s profile. 

“That’s not fair and you know it” he frowned. Minho looked at him, a cold look in his eyes, one reminiscent of when they first met, when he was worried and annoyed by him. it made Jisung tremble. 

“How is it not fair?” he demanded, gripping the wheel tightly. 

“Because when I’m like this, I don’t force you to drop everything and leave” he yelled. Minho slammed on the breaks at a traffic light. Jisung was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were in the car. His heart began to beat rapidly, feeling as though it was trying to escape through his mouth. 

“That’s what this is about? Leaving the beach?” he demanded, turning to him. Jisung shook his head but it was ignored by Minho. “You’re so god damn selfish, fuck, you only think about your fucking self” he scoffed in a condescending tone. Jisung felt his chest tighten. 

“I am not selfish,” he said through clenched teeth. He hated being called selfish, even if it was just in a joking manner, not even during sex when he liked to be whispered degrading words, Minho knew that. Jisung turned towards the window, not wanting to hear anything else, he was just tired. Tired of everything, Minho, his stupid emotions, being in the car. He just wanted to go to bed wrapped in his softest sweater and in Minho’s arms, when he wasn’t being a dick. He felt more warm tears collecting at his water line and soaking his eyelashes. He wiped them away as they dripped down, unbeknownst to Minho who was still scowling. The sad thing was Jisung was the sorry one, Jisung was the one who wanted nothing more than to crawl into Minho’s lap and do whatever it took to be in his good graces again. He let his eyes flutter closed, forgetting everything for the time being. 

“Baby, wake up” Minho prompted. Jisung heard what he said, but didn’t open his eyes, the dawning sun already sending sharp pains through them. Minho continued rubbing his leg, not saying anything for a few moments before he stood up. He leaned over him, unlatching his seatbelt, and sliding his arms beneath him and lifting. He was careful not to knock him against the car, carrying him inside of wherever they were. It seemed to soon to be home, but Jisung couldn’t tell without opening his eyes and he didn’t want to. If he did, they’d be back to fighting, he just knew it. He must’ve dozed back off because the next thing he remembered was being laid in a soft bed, but Minho didn’t join him. In fact all Minho did was pull the curtains shut and pull the door closed. Jisung didn’t know if he was in or out, but finally laying down after who knew how long of being in the car felt to good and true exhaustion settled in his bones as he fell back asleep. 

Minho pulled his phone from his pants, checking the call log. Another call from a restricted number. He had only answered once before, and he didn’t like what he heard. His stomach churning at the mere possibility of what the stranger suggesting. He clicked button to call, holding it to his ear. The dial back tone played for a few moments, a tinny remix of some American song he didn’t recognize. Finally it stopped and the same voice from before spoke.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting a call from you, Minho” they said. Minho bit his tongue to refrain from cursing them out. 

“What do you want?” he demanded, feeling sick. 

“I’m so glad you asked”


End file.
